


Ethical Consumption in Romantic Encounters

by anarchycox



Series: The Executive and the Sandwich Man [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Endearments, Fluff, Get together fic, Lancelot POV, M/M, bank teller Lancelot, executive assistant Merlin, meet cute, meet during illegal activities, no magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28929198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: Lancelot stops a man from spray painting graffiti over the bank he works at. He never expected to end up falling in love with the man.A side story in my gwaine/arthur universe about how Merlin and Lancelot got together.
Relationships: Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin)
Series: The Executive and the Sandwich Man [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076213
Comments: 12
Kudos: 72





	Ethical Consumption in Romantic Encounters

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Morgause cursed, “Some idiot teenager is fucking spray painting the side of the building. I’m calling the police.” She had stormed into the break room, furious, but then she was always mad. “Death to Capitalism and all that. Bloody hell.”

“It is half past eleven in the morning, who spray paints at that time?” Lancelot was honestly confused. “Shouldn’t vandalism occur with the cover of darkness?” When he and his mates got up to mischief at that age, it was always well after dark. And the principal’s tree had needed to be covered in that much loo paper. He could hear Morgause snapping at whoever answered the phone and fuck, he didn’t condone graffiti but some confused kid deserved better than whatever Morgause was unleashing. He threw out his garbage and left the break room, not that she even noticed, since she was busy implying that she was sure she had seen a weapon on the kid.

God, he hated her so much. But the job itself was decent enough. His friends didn’t understand how he could like being a bank teller, after years of traveling the world with non profits and lending aid to people, but after he had contracted malaria he couldn’t get the insurance to travel anymore. When he had returned to London, he had found that most of his knowledge wasn’t transferable to work options and eventually had managed to get the bank teller job. He didn’t mind it, really. He had spent years giving everything, and he needed a break. He did his shift and when he went home he wasn’t kept awake with what he had seen. 

But he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to help, and letting a kid get away with petty crime seemed like a good way to help. Also piss of his boss, which he didn’t object to. Lancelot went outside and there he was. It was awful spray painting and he winced. “Your first tagging?”

“NO,” the kid snapped, and the voice was deeper than he expected under the black hoodie. “And shove off.”

“The manager has called the cops.”

“Why the fuck would someone call the filth?”

Lancelot blinked. “Because you are committing vandalism in broad daylight and poorly at that. It looks like is says Dearth to Capitalism.”

“Look this is harder than it seems. I honestly thought it would be easier. Someone tagged the Pendragon building with all sorts of stuff and I thought not a bad idea.”

“Well it is, and my manager called the police and suggested you are armed. So you might want to run away, they’ll be here soon.”

“You’re filthy capitalist scum, why are you helping me?”

“Okay, baby Marx, I hate my manager, so I wanted to do you a favour. Now go back to school. And learn to tag at night, for fucks sake,” Lancelot was tired and his lunch break was almost over. “And trust me I am not capitalist scum.”

“You work for a bank.”

“I’m a teller, not a day trader. And it is the twenty first century, so I am mostly helping little old ladies withdraw ten quid to give to grandchildren for sweeties. Grow up a bit.”

“There is no ethical consumption in late capitalism.” The kid approached him, and pushed the hoodie down.

“You are showing me your face, now if the cops question me, I might have to try to identify you!” Lancelot could not believe how brainless the person was. Also clearly not a kid. “You are in your twenties.”

“You won’t identify me,” the kid, no man, replied, “what would you say a gorgeous, and intelligent man showed me the error of my ways and I am quitting banking and turning a life of -” the man paused, “what are you good at, we can find you an ethical job, because you do actually seem a decent sort.”

Lancelot could hear sirens. “Now isn’t the time for career advice, now is the time for running.” He nudged the man. “Go.”

“Maybe you aren’t capitalist scum!” the man said and bolted down the alley, and to give him credit the guy was fast. Lancelot took a few photos of the graffiti and then went to the mouth of the alley. 

“Officers, I came out and the boy was gone. I can tell you that he was in a blue hoodie, and went that way.” Lancelot pointed in the wrong direction. One officer jogged down the way and Lancelot answered the others questions. They let him go back inside and said it was likely they’d never catch the kid. Morgause was fuming, and meant was on the four tellers working and denied a couple loans that could have passed but he stopped at a takeaway place on his way home, and mostly had forgotten all about it by the time he went to sleep.

*

“Hello, I’d like to open a savings account please,” a voice said and it sounded a bit familiar. Lancelot finished typing and looked over. Fuck, it was baby Marx. Looking even less baby now in a blue button down shirt and grey trousers. The man was probably only a couple years younger than him. “I want my money fueling imperialism and climate change, and earning a penny of interest every other year or so.”

Lancelot was relieved that these days they only ever had a few tellers on at a go, meant the booth next to him was empty, and he was on the end of the row. “Are you here to rob the place?” he whispered. It was quieter than usual for around lunch time. “Please do, that is Mrs. Jorgensen over there and she has a bad hip.”

“No, why would I do that?” baby Marx was frowning. “I am here to open a savings account. I have five hundred pounds I want to put in.”

“Oh,” Lancelot blinked. “I can definitely help you with that.” He pulled up the list on his computer. “What sort of savings account are you looking for?”

“There are different kinds?”

“We have four different ones,” Lancelot started and he saw the man roll his eyes. “What?”

“Can you not do the corporate spiel. I get it your a stooge of the system, but doesn’t mean you have to commit to it completely. I just need a savings account.” The man put money on the counter. “There that money specifically.”

“Do you have an account with us already?” Lancelot asked. “If you had a chequing account with us, you could set it up so that on payday, a certain amount of money was transferred over.”

“But I might need the extra money for weed. Or bail for friends fighting colonial scum.”

“Lord save me.” The man looked pissed, but really it was like a beagle being angry - it just made them cuter. Lancelot realized that he in fact found baby Marx, quite cute. “Now then, you have some money to set aside but not a lot and you are likely to need easy access for emergencies? Like weed or fighting the good fight?”

“That sounded very sarcastic, what do you think I should do with my money, invest in gold or oil?”

“I tend to put my spare money in clean water charities, or the savings account that I am recommending for you.”

“Wait, really?” Baby Marx’s smile grew slowly over his face, and he went from cute to beautiful. “You support clean water charities?”

“I better or that speech I gave to the U.N. three years ago was more of a waste of time than I thought. Now I need your full name.”

“U.N.?” Baby Marx’s voice was faint. “You spoke to the U.N. about water?”

“Name?” Lancelot repeated. He tended not give personal information like that out. But he had maybe wanted to show baby Marx he couldn’t tell a person by their boring tie. Morgause was looking up from her desk and glaring at him. She had written him up before for taking too long with the people who came in, but sometimes he helped people out, made sure they avoided overdrafts, switched them to accounts that would save them fees.

“Merlin Emrys,” baby Marx answered. Or rather, Merlin answered.

“Merlin,” he agreed and asked the man to spell his surname. He got the address, phone number email. “Occupation?”

“Office drone, sticking it to the man from the inside, since apparently my joint masters in psychology and history isn’t worth much if it turns out you hate teaching and writing articles and whatnot.”

“Office drone isn’t quite one of the options?” 

“Assistant, I guess?”

Lancelot nodded and filled that in. He asked the required questions and Merlin gave snarky answers but enough that he was able to set up the account. He had Merlin sign off on everything and even set him up with the online system. “And now, I will just deposit the five hundred pounds.”

“Four fifty, want to give some to a clean water charity,” Merlin said and pulled some of the money back. “You really gave a talk at the U.N.?”

Lancelot counted the money and would have answered but Morgause was on the move. He put it in the plastic baggie and took it over to the window. He gave Merlin the receipt. “Thank you for choosing our bank for your needs.” 

“Of course,” Merlin glanced over at Morgause and nodded. “Lovely evil institution you have here. Bye.”

Lancelot snorted a bit, and she glared. The next day he found he was switched to just a horrible and nonsensical schedule for the next couple of weeks. It was Morgause’s favourite move. He took a quick look at want ads, but nothing seemed any better so he’d stick with it.

*  
“And I want to make a deposit into my savings account,” Merlin smiled and Lancelot couldn’t help but smile back. The man had an infectious grin.

“Again?”

“I’m making my lunch at home, and skipping lattes, isn’t that what your commercials say? Penny saved is a penny earned! A healthy British economy means a healthy Britain!”

“That just hurt your soul to say, didn’t it, baby Marx?” Lancelot teased.

“So much, oh god, the commercials are vapid and annoying. And the ads, lord how much did the bank spend on those ads?”

“That is corporate I have no idea. I’m just a teller,” Lancelot said. “Office drone just like you. But that reminds me, we forgot to fill in your actual place of employment in the forms. Easy fix. You can even do it online on your own.”

“Sure,” Merlin agreed. “Now deposit, I have five pounds today.”

Lancelot didn’t roll his eyes but it was close. Merlin was in every few days depositing absurd amounts of money. It was confusing why the man didn’t just save it up and come in once or twice a month. But perhaps he couldn’t trust himself if he kept them money on hand. He deposited the money and Merlin was lingering. “Was there something else?”

“Uh, yeah.” Merlin nodded. “I’ve been meaning to ask. You didn’t get in any trouble for helping me skedaddle that day did you?”

“No,” Lancelot said softly. “How goes your career as an artist?”

“It was mostly a one off, I was just so mad at -” he cleared his throat. “My boss, he sucks, but also has the potential to not suck? But his father stopped by and it made him suck and I was so mad, it just sort of happened.” He began to chew on a nail. “Usually I just protest, or volunteer places. Just got so angry. Would have defaced where I work, but that would have upset my boss, and he is working really hard to suck less. Hasn’t told me to toddle along and fetch coffee in at least, god, three weeks now.”

“You could go work for a nonprofit?” Lancelot said quietly. “I know a few people, might be able to find you a job. Pay is shit but you’d probably feel better.”

“Thanks, but I have reasons for staying. Well. See you.”

“Lancelot, that is my name,” he offered.

“Cheers, mate.”

Lancelot watched Merlin leave and wondered when he’d be back again.

*

“Lancelot!” 

Lancelot looked up from where he was laying out brochures and information for RSPCA. “Merlin.”

“What are you doing?”

“Adoption event. My friend needed some help.” They were in the park and the animals were slowly being brought out. “Out for a run?”

“It is a good way to channel my aggression at a system that doesn’t seem to be letting me impact it from the inside.” He had that angry beagle look on his face again. “My boss is a fucking moron. And it is worse, because he isn’t but he was programmed hard to think all corporatey and stupid. He tried to fire me again.”

“Wouldn’t that mean you are fired?”

“What? No, Gwen hired me, and it is specifically in my contract my boss can’t fire me. Only she can, and she left last week. Kidnapped her girlfriend.”

“Isn’t that bad?” Lancelot had to admit that he was growing more and more fond of conversations with Merlin, they were seldom what you expected them to be. “I was fairly certain kidnapping was bad.” He set out the forms and began to blow up balloons for children. The first got away from him though - he hated helium tanks.

“Here let me, I spent one summer working as a clown. No it isn’t a metaphor, actual clown. Can juggle and everything.” Merlin easily worked the tank and had a few balloons blown up and strung in quick succession. “And this was a good kidnapping. Prevented murder.”

“I see?” He didn’t really, but he wasn’t completely sure he wanted to. Merlin had a few more balloons ready to go. “Thank you. Are you interested in adopting a pet perhaps?”

“No, taking care of the man I work for is close enough. He calls at weird hours when he gets ideas.” Lancelot smiled a bit because the air quotes Merlin did were adorable. “But I’m great at convincing people to do stuff, I can help out.”

“Sure,” Lancelot agreed because they could use extra hands. Merlin was actually weird great or weirdly bad at helping them get pets adopted. He always picked the wrong pet for a family, but then Lancelot’s friend would show another and there was just a click. They got about two thirds of the pets adopted by the end of the day which was a huge victory. “Thank you, Merlin. There are lots of happy people tonight.”

“Including you?”

“Including me,” Lancelot agreed and found himself holding Merlin, the man pressing a hard kiss to his mouth. He adjusted Merlin’s head a bit and sank into the kiss. He pulled back after a moment. “Merlin?”

“I was doing all those stupid deposits to look at you and ask you out,” Merlin said, breathless, eyes huge. “Because you are gorgeous and as ethical as a person can be and gorgeous. Fuck, you are so hot. And nice. But hot.”

“You think I’m attractive, is what I am hearing,” Lancelot grinned. “Baby Marx, why didn’t you say so?”

“Because it is gross to hit on someone in customer service,” Merlin said. “I’d be the shittiest sort of person if I did that.”

“So you just came and did the stupidest deposits ever,” Lancelot nodded a bit. “Want to pick up takeaway, eat it at my place, and then fuck?”

“I really fucking do,” Merlin agreed.

*

Lancelot was cooking up an Ethiopian feast, had a hankering for it. He loved the smells even though he had cheated and bough the injera from a market. He stirred the pot and smiled. He thought Merlin would like it. They had been together almost a couple months now and it was going well he thought. Merlin was always unexpected and dramatic, and incredibly generous with his heart. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. “Merlin, dinner is almost ready, miss the stop?” 

“No,” Merlin said softly. “I’m…it was a bad day at work and I need to smoke some weed and I know you don’t love that. So I’ll see you in a couple days?” He hung up without waiting for an answer.

Lancelot didn’t love the weed, that was true, but Merlin had used it twice since they were dating, usually because he was so stressed, that it was the only way to quiet his mind. Lancelot looked at all the food he had made, the nice table he had laid out and nodded. He found a cooler and packed it all up. He hugged the cooler on the tube, walked carefully up the stairs at Merlin’s flat, an old lady having let him in without him needing to buzz. He took a deep breath and called. “Takeaway.”

“I didn’t order anything -” Merlin said as he opened the door. “Lancelot.”

“You get hungry when you smoke. Ethiopian.” He held up the cooler. “And a willing ear?” He smiled, relieved, when the door opened wider. Merlin was in track pants and his work shirt, an odd combination and yet he made it look good. “Let me just eat up the food.”

“No,” Merlin said. “Can I fuck you, then we can eat?”

“Alright,” Lancelot said easily and put the cooler on Merlin’s small kitchen counter. They went to the bedroom, and it was fast and not their best, but after Merlin was a bit more relaxed and they cuddled. “Want to tell me about it?”

“My boss is making a deal. It is going to make him a good bit of money. And is morally wrong, and he knows it. But his father arranged it, and he hates going against the man. He knows it is wrong, he is willing to do wrong, to earn a respect he will never actually be given. I told him that. I yelled at him, and he just…” Merlin burrowed in. “He uses just tries to fire me, or shouts back.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“He was so cold. He was just like every other corporate suit. I was honestly beginning to think he was different. He can’t fire me, but I can quit.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Mum was pretty sick, the NHS covered the sick, but private company and they let her go. They were being slightly illegal but found loopholes of course. Hard to find work when you are a recovering cancer patient. I’m able to cover her mortgage while she gets sorted with this job.”

“You are a good man, Merlin,” Lancelot rolled them over and looked down at him. “You are a bit of a mess, but a good man.” He wiped the tear away that was sliding down his cheek. “Baby Marx, no mid level corporate bastard trying to live up to his father’s 80s and 90s coke fueled ‘great deals’ is going to be worth this pain. I know programs your mother can apply to, we can figure something out.” He wiped away another tear. “Merlin,” he said softly, and kissed the man. “I adore you.”

“I play at being good. You are the real thing.”

Lancelot shook his head. “You are very real to me.”

Merlin eventually nodded. “I’m starving.”

“Do you want another hit before we eat?”

“Did actually have one yet,” Merlin said, “was busy being in a funk about deciding not to see you.”

“You can always share whatever mood you are in with me,” Lancelot swore. “You listen to me complain about Morgause.”

Merlin nudged him and they put their pants on but stayed shirtless. Food was warmed up in the microwave and they ate, wrapping lentils in injera, drinking a beer. There was a knock at the door and Merlin ignored it to eat more. The knock grew insistent and Merlin was scowling as he ignored it. 

“Merlin?”

Merlin shook his head. “I know that knock and I am not answering.”

The knock turned into a pounding. “Oh don’t be such a prat,” the man shouted. “I called off the deal, you can stop being such a girl about it.”

“Excuse me?” Lancelot stood up, but Merlin was already beating him to the door.

“What did I tell you about gendered insults like that?” Merlin shouted and a man stormed into the flat. One that looked familiar to Lancelot, though he couldn’t quite place him. “Beyond anything else, Morgana is a girl and she unhinges her jaw and eats men! And Gwen knows how to sword fight. Actual fighting with a sword. Would that I was as strong as those two girls,” Merlin snapped. “Take it back.”

“On behalf of all the competent women in the world I apologize. And hope that one maybe gets your job so I don’t have to deal with your bruised feelings over a simple business deal!”

“A simple business deal? Do you know the company you were about to get in bed with?” Merlin was waving his hands and pacing. “They fuck with the environment, basically use slave labour -”

“I checked they don’t do anything illegal, because I actually check that shit out now because of you.”

“It doesn’t have to be illegal to be wrong!” Merlin was almost screaming. “You just are scared of a man who isn’t even in charge anymore! You are! You, Arthur Pendragon are in fucking charge and can change everything.”

“To your way,” Arthur sneered. “You tell me I blindly follow my father, but you want me to blindly follow you. You didn’t tell me why they were bad, you just started in on your no ethical consumption stuff and don’t actually give me concrete facts that I can understand! That I can follow up on, study, learn.”

“I -” Merlin paused. “Fuck, fuck. Why do you have to be right?”

The man, Arthur Merlin had said, sat down in shock. “Oh god, Merlin, did you just say I am right?”

Merlin sat next to him. “Trust me, I am not comfortable with that either.”

Lancelot looked between them. “There are leftovers,” he offered, “are you hungry, Arthur Pendragon, was it?”

“Yes, sorry. I’m Arthur, his boss,” Arthur stood back up and came over. “President of Camelot Enterprises.”

“Pleasure, wash your hands and we’ll have some more food. There is plenty of injera left.” Lancelot moved towards the table and froze. He turned slowly. “I’m sorry, I thought you just said you were the president of Camelot Enterprises. One of the biggest companies in England.”

“Yes,” Arthur nodded, “Saw me on the BBC the other day?”

“My bank, they keep trying to get your accounts.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Merlin, you are dating a banker?” He looked gleeful. “Bankers are the worst. Oh my god, you give me shit day in and out, and then go home and get fucked by a goddamn banker. That is fucking amazing.”

“He is a teller, not the sort of banker you are thinking of,” Merlin replied. He came over and sat, started to eat again. “Just eat, you look like you skipped dinner.”

Arthur sat. “I did, I was reading up on The Tauren Firm to figure out what set you off so much about me accepting their offer.”

“Oh no,” Lancelot looked at him in horror. “You can’t.”

“Why not?” Arthur looked at the food in confusion. “Do I eat it with a spoon?”

Lancelot showed him how to scoop the food up with the injera. “They have a history of bribing local officials. The our outfit will bring in lots of work. And they pay pennies, and have a horrid record of dumping waste into water sources. The water charity I used to work with tried several times to sue them, get them arrested but they always skated.”

“Lancelot has won humanitarian awards, spoken to the U.N. about clean water,” Merlin had straightened up and looked proud. Lancelot ducked his head a bit. “Will you listen to him?” Arthur nodded and Lancelot told him about what he knew of the The Tauren firm, and Arthur asked rather good questions, and it was clear he was absorbing the information. 

“Hmm,” was all Arthur said at the end. “Right. Merlin, see you at work tomorrow?”

“I -” Merlin was frowning. “I don’t know.”

“You are annoying and give me a headache, and most of the time I want to strangle you, and you are awful at your job. But I,” Arthur looked like he didn’t know how to ask for help. “I do better with you, than without. I think.”

“I’ll be in tomorrow,” Merlin agreed.

“Lancelot, a pleasure to meet you,” Arthur said and then let himself out. Lancelot cleaned up the dishes and grabbed another beer.

“Merlin?”

“Uh-huh?” Merlin was not looking at him.

“Are you the personal executive assistant to Arthur Pendragon, President of Camelot Enterprises, a company worth about three hundred million pounds?”

Merlin still wasn’t looking at him and then gave a small nod.

“I need to google something,” Lancelot said.

“You know google is evil.”

“Merlin, I think I am having a stroke, and that is the least of my concerns.” Lancelot looked up the symptoms but it seemed he was fine. “You. My baby Marx is the executive assistant to Arthur Pendragon. A man that we just convinced to back out of a -”

“28 million pound deal, yeah,” Merlin nodded. “Go team!”

“I need to sit,” Lancelot went to the couch and flopped. “Merlin, what the fuck?”

“It just sort of happened. I went to this open interview mostly to yell at them about their charitable record, and the HR director, Gwen, she said, right you will drive him spare and make him think, you are hired? And somehow put all these weird clauses in my contract so that he can’t fire me. She is a genius at contracts.”

“And swords.”

“And swords,” Merlin agreed. “I was embarrassed.”

“How, you are an incredibly important man.”

“No, you are. I’m just a cog in the evil empire, though it is 15% less evil I think. You did good, you do good. And I yell at a president in this stupid huge office, and worry every day that I am just twitter rage but really just nothing but empty words.”

Lancelot was still a little broken by the news but he pulled Merlin into his lap. “You are not nothing.” He smiled at Merlin. “You are apparently very much somebody.”

“It is so weird. And worse, I like the job,” Merlin’s forehead was against his. “I’m a really great assistant. In my way.”

“I am sure you are.”

“Won’t dump me because of my job will you?”

“No,” Lancelot laughed a bit. “Not for something like that. Or anything anytime soon.” He kissed Merlin. “Come on, baby Marx. Let’s get a bit buzzed and then have some fun.” He drank a few more beers and Merlin smoked a joint and the sex was much better and they fell asleep at peace.

*

Lancelot smiled as Merlin walked into the bank. “What is the deposit today?”

“Nine pounds, twenty pence,” Merlin said. “Hello, darling.”

“And how goes the corporate struggle today?”

“Actually I am pleased. I read about a company that delivers lunches. Green Grocer. Convinced Arthur we should give it a try. I am thinking a good part of his being a dick, is that he isn’t eating enough. He lives off kale shakes. I am getting real food into him.” Merlin prattled on about his latest bicker with Arthur. It was actually adorable how much they fought and often over the silliest things. Lancelot deposited the money and since Morgause was on a loo break he leaned over the counter and kissed Merlin.

“Cinema tonight?”

“Oooh that doc on climate change with a million dead animals?”

“Marx brothers marathon.” Lancelot grinned and wiggled his brows. “Wanna have a laugh, baby Marx?”

“Fuck it would be amazing if Marx was related to the Marx brothers. Night at the Opera?”

“And Duck Soup.”

“Brilliant,” Merlin grinned and leaned over for another kiss. 

“Excuse me!” Morgause called out.

“Bye,” Merlin whispered and ran. 

Lancelot ignored her and went about the rest of his day with a smile on his face. When he was in the break room, the news was presenting a story about Camelot Enterprises demanding any company they do business with improve their environmental record or they’d be kicked to the curb. Arthur used the words ethical consumption in his statement and he could see Merlin in the background both awkward and luminous.

“That’s my baby,” he whispered and watched the report.


End file.
